It's A Type Of Love
by Sykosword
Summary: A rhythm guitarist joins the ranks of Bring Me the Horizon. Chaos, friendship, love ensues. There is an OC in this, btw. . I put it in Plays/musicals cos I don't know where it goes. Please, R&R!
1. The First Bus Incident

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything related to Bring Me the Horizon, nor do I own anything related to Oli Sykes, Lee Malia, Matt Nichols, Matt Kean, or Jordan Fish. (Apart from a couple of posters from HMV of course, etc. etc.)

AN: Before you read, let me just explain. Okay, so, some of you may not like this, but I am writing this mainly for my own entertainment. So if you're unhappy with the concept, it's not my problem.

Since Jona has left, and Jordan has joined, Bring Me the Horizon are left without a rhythm guitarist. BOOM! That's where my OC comes in. Yes, my OC is a female, just to fulfil the little fantasies inside my head. I'm not sure if this will have smutty stuff included, but if it does, that'll be in later chapters. Let me know if you have any suggestions as to scenarios that should happen in the story.

And now, TO MORDOR! Eheheh, just kidding.

* * *

(The Tour Bus)

"Nice…err…pants…" I muttered as I dumped my gigantic rucksack onto a nearby bunk. The dark carpet was littered with various pieces of clothing, underwear and all.

"They're clean, I think," Nichols shrugged, flopping heavily onto a padded sofa. His eyes fluttered closed. Practice had been long, and rather difficult, since I was fairly new and they had yet to teach me their ways. I'd spent hours with Lee, and we'd figured out where to add in rhythm parts so I would be able to play with them in future shows.

Jordan's face appeared near the bottom of the stairs, and he stretched up and handed me two cans of coke. I threw one vaguely in Matt's direction.

I heard a grunt, and saw Matt's coke can roll onto the floor. He was perched on the edge of his seat, hands protecting his crotch. I tried not to smile as I realised that I'd managed to crack a nut-shot without even looking.

"Oh, sorry, would you like some ice?" I asked, resisting the urge to snort with laughter.

"For what?" He asked, "The coke or my balls?!"

I couldn't help it and let out a giggle. A felt my face turn a little pink, and I turned to study to floor.

"Never mind, I'll bring you both."

I passed Jordan on the stairs, and jumped to the fridge, grabbing an ice pack and made it back in time to tap him on the shoulder and hand it to him. He raised his eyebrows, but I merely pointed up the steps.

I made my way further down the bus, still unfamiliar with its many functions. By 'many' I mean 'basically none', but there was a TV. With an Xbox. Undoubtedly Lee's. I'd play on it later.

Lee waved me over from his position on the beanbags next to Oli. They were both slumped over, half-asleep. What is it with these guys? I thought bands were supposed to be, like, amazing all-nighter-pullers, not dozing off at – actually, what time is it anyways? 9pm.  
9pm was ridiculous. If I wasn't such a nice person, I'd be out gathering buckets of ice water to pour down their shirts. Tempting.

I tripped on my shoelace as I skipped down the bus, and face-planted the coffee table. It didn't hurt too much, but my pride and dignity had clearly abandoned me. I heard strained chuckling, and the click of a camera-shutter as I tried to straighten up as fast as humanely possible. Great. Now my clumsiness is gonna be all over facebook, twitter, the likes.

Because I'd always wanted to be seen sprawled over a bag of now-crushed Doritos.

Combing my hair over my face, I carried out the rest of the perilous journey, watching for any sign of hazard. Lee grabbed my shirt and yanked me onto his lap. A little awkward, but I made myself as comfortable as possible. A series of groans issued as I flung around my elbows, narrowly missing Oliver's head, and I made sure to dig my feet into Lee's stomach when I kicked off my scrappy trainers.

"Comfy yet, love?" A voice from behind my ear said.

"Ehhhh…kind of," so I shuffled around further until I really was comfortable. Unfortunately, I hadn't really been paying attention to exactly how close I was getting with Oli. Lee glanced over quickly and gave me a knowing look. He knew about my attraction to Oli. I remember when I'd first confessed it to Lee. I'd tried to hide it, fumbling desperately for the right words to say, so as not to give it away, but it was useless. He'd seen my flaming cheeks and heard my stutters. I couldn't help it; my mind had turned into a mushy mixture of jelly and water.

I glared back at him, even though I knew he wouldn't say anything. Partially because he was a genuinely nice person, and partially because I'd held a knife up and made him swear on his life that he wouldn't tell anyone.  
He just smiled and shook his head, directing his attention to a passing lorry.

I used my failing sixth-sense to try and guess where I was sitting in proportion to Oli. My assessment now might save me from an embarrassing situation later, so it was important.

I could feel the squishiness of the leather beanbag underneath me, but my legs were draped over one of his. I was sitting directly in front of him. I felt the warmth of his body, and the rise and fall of his chest, his slow breathing. I realised the strange softness resting on my neck was his hair, and that he had lowered his head to lean on me. Soft snoring echoed in my ear. Bless him. Such a lightweight when it comes to sleep.  
The sound was actually quite relaxing, and I soon found myself easing further into him, drifting into darkness.

* * *

AN: Please tell me if that was alright, I KNOW IT WAS SHORT but I wanted to see if I should carry on, and I promise to make them longer next time. Thanks so much for actually reading, btw. You don't know how much it means to me. ^.^


	2. Monster Munch

DISIfCLAIMER: Yadayadayada, I own nothing, no one, etc. etc. Apart from my own character. (Her name's Ky, btw, just so you don't get confused. I know it's a boy's name, but leave me alone because I LIKE IT :))

Thanks for reading. I love you. If you loved me too, you'd leave a review. Please. I even made sure to make this chapter twice as long as the last one. XD  
(Sheep is the tour manager, I think)

* * *

Searing metal shells cascaded down from the hands of trained machine-gunners. A boom rattled my mind; a tank fired. Devastation.

"Be aware, there is an enemy sniper in the area."

What? Wait…I knew where that was from. Shaking the foggy puddles from my head, I glanced around. Morning vision sucks. It was too bleary to make anything out for definite, but I was sure those sounds were coming from Battlefield.

Yes, I was sure, Lee was playing Battlefield.

I was also quite aware of cold, sharp metal digging into my back. A belt buckle, maybe? But why was there a belt buckle beneath me? Maybe Matt had been dumping his clothes everywhere again, and I was just unfortunate enough to have fallen asleep on them. But clothes aren't as warm and squishy. I turned my head to the side.

They definitely don't have hair. Clothes do not have hair. There was chocolaty-brown hair right next to my face. It wasn't my hair, since my hair smells like…well; it doesn't smell like tropical fruits. My hair smells more like…generic shampoo. The stuff that stings like fuck when you get it in your eyes.

Who was I lying on? A new mystery to solve! Boy, do I feel like Sherlock! But alas, I am a Sherlock who is missing something. A partner in crime, to be particular. I could've pondered further on the matter, but frankly, I'm a very lazy person.

"Lee-lee? Who's underneath me right now?"

"Oli," he answered in monotone. Too damn focused on Team Deathmatch.

Oh, please no. Of all people that I could've fallen asleep on, it had to be him. How did I even get in this position? Actually, how did I even get in this situation? I don't remember last night at all. But, this could be a good thing, if I looked at it the right way. Here I was, snuggling with the love of my life. Not that he knew it yet. But, still. I'd get around to telling him one day. Or maybe I'd just stay hopeless for the rest of my life, single as a pringle, alone, collecting abandoned kittens and raising them as my own…

No. I will not let myself become the crazy cat lady. I will not let myself become the crazy cat lady. I WILL NOT LET MYSELF BECOME THE CRAZY CAT LADY. I shall not be ordering the crazy-cat-lady-starter-kit anytime soon.

Oliver snorted twice and shifted. I tried as hard as I could to keep from putting any more weight on him as possible, so he wouldn't have to wake up and then I'd be trying to stammer out an explanation as to why I was there.

To my horror, my sock slipped against the smooth leather and I fell backwards. He awoke with a mumble but took my sleeve and pulled me closer, wrapping me in his arms and close to his chest once again. He probably didn't realise what he was doing.

Don't get me wrong, I was happy. More than happy; I was ecstatic. However, I remained tensed throughout the whole motion, probably with a frown on my face, because I was waiting for the moment when he would really wake up, realise what he was doing, and push me onto the floor. Where I would curl up into a ball and pretend I wasn't about to open the floodgates of rejection.

My negative thoughts were unnecessary. Two long arms with soft sleeves cradled me until I almost drifted back to sleep. Heaven. I could stay here for ever and ever.

In two hours we would be arriving at another venue, where we would play and practice and mess around (to Sheep's disgust) until late at night when we would collapse and do the same the next day until the actual show.

"OLOBER, WAKE UP!"

Goddammit, Matt. I hate you so much right now.

Oli stirred and stretched, giving me an opportunity to stand before the whole group came down and started to tease. Maybe he wouldn't even remember the night we slept on the beanbags. I hoped he did. I hoped he'd developed a 'thing' for me. Probably not. That would only happen in my dreams. Actually, I hoped he didn't, and would never remember that. He might guess that I had a crush of some sort on him, and that would just be embarrassing. Especially when I'd have to deny it. Because I'd be blushing like crazy.

"Ky? What are you doing? Why are you lying on me?"

Well, fuck. There goes Plan A.

I could really use a Plan B, right about now.  
If there's anyone up there.  
Hello?  
Please, dear lord, just make a hole in the ground and let me gracefully sink in.

I made a sequence of 'um's' and eventually hoisted myself into a standing position, then rubbed the back of my neck and avoided eye contact with anyone present.

Luckily, Oli changed subject as began asking questions about the time, and whereabouts we were. I happily answered and then skipped quickly upstairs to my bunk. Shutting the deep blue curtain, I rolled over and put my face in my hands. That couldn't have gone worse. Clearly, Lady Luck was holding quite a grudge on me. Perfect. I'll probably do something stupid later on too, like fall off stage. Or trip over my own feet, or spill Mountain Dew down myself, or smear pizza sauce all over my face, or –

"Ky? Where'd you go? We're here, get whatever you need and meet us inside, then we'll set up and start practice!" Matt yelled from below.

After my 5-minute-panic-nap, I decided to grab as many toiletries and cosmetics as I'd brought with me and clean myself up in the pathetic excuse of a bathroom we shared. It was awkward trying to squeeze the few bottles of product that I actually owned onto the ledge of the sink. I had to half-crouch just to see myself in the tiny mirror. The light was making my face look like a horror story, but somehow I managed. I re-straightened my hair, and sprayed a little hairspray, hoping that there wasn't a grade 5 hurricane outside just waiting to pounce. A fresh sweep of eyeliner, and that would have to do. I didn't wear much makeup anyway; it was too bothersome and it tried my patience.

I picked out some fresh clothes, just before I left, considering that I'd been sleeping in my old ones. Black jeans with a chain, ones of Lee's Metallica t-shirts, and a red hoodie. As usual, I looked unemployed. It wasn't exactly a problem though, since I considered myself to have one of the best careers in the world anyway. It certainly felt awesome.

Someone had taken most of the important stuff already, so I just ambled slowly to the back of the venue, and opened the 'backstage exit' door.

I waved nonchalantly to a couple of technicians; Dylan and Perry. They were both guitar tech, and ususally helped me, Lee, and Matt set up. I watched them move around some amps and cables. Dylan eventually came over and told me that Oli was looking for me, but he didn't know why.

I strolled around backstage, checking the two small dressing rooms and various toilets. I couldn't see anyone. A few cups of what I assumed to be Pepsi were sitting on a snack table, so I downed a couple. It was probably just best to stay here, since Matt would probably show up soon and start pigging out. Then I could ask him where Oliver was.

I sat for a while, quite content with merely watching people jog past, holding pieces of stage equipment, microphones, wires, and backup lights. My assumptions turned out to be correct, as Matt soon wandered over, already carrying bags of Monster Munch. I don't even know where he managed to find them.

"Oli went back to the bus, he's been looking for you for the past 20 minutes," he mumbled through a mouthful of crisps.

"Yeah, I heard," I replied, "Is he still out there?"

"Dunno, I think so..."

I moved from the snack table and hurried outside, somewhat anxious as to what he wanted to say. It was completely unreasonable of me to think it would be anything more than special than a 'you got your part sorted out right, didn't you?', but for some reason, I still allowed myself to. I knew he thought we were just friends, and almost everyone else thought we were too. They **knew** we were just friends. Because that's all we were.

I almost laughed at myself, thinking about how silly I was. I could take the daily heartbreak in good humour, but there was always another side to it that I pushed back. There was always the part of me that felt such a longing for him, that I just couldn't face it. I suppose you could say that I bottled those emotions up, and locked them away. It was a stupid idea, since I knew the glass would crack eventually, and my carefully constructed walls would come tumbling down. That day would come soon, I felt, which is why I was trying to channel some made-up power of manifestation, willing something to happen between us.

I came to a sudden stop at the door. What was the code again? My long reverie had sufficiently numbed my mind enough that I couldn't remember much. The door suddenly swung open and Oli came racing down the two steps, crashing into me.

I held onto his arms as we plummeted towards the concrete. My butt hit the ground first, and I felt a sharp pain near the bottom of my back. That would certainly leave a mark. He quickly pulled me back onto my feet, apologising profusely. I stood there with a glazed look on my face; too busy gazing into his beautiful dark eyes to really pay much attention to the words he spoke. I snapped back to reality when he lightly pinched my hand.

"What? Sorry? I didn't hear you," I said with an apologetic glance.

"Are you sure you're alright? Didn't I hurt you?"

At this, my butt seemed to respond and the nerves pulsed, sending a wave a pain through my back, enough to make my voice give an unnatural squeak.

"Naw, I'm fine!"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with my attempt at an answer. Pulling me back onto the bus, he grabbed a cloth from the small kitchen area and filled it with ice.

"Here, use this for a few minutes, it'll help with the bruise I've most likely given you," he said as he handed me the makeshift ice-pack.

"Thanks," I murmured in gratitude, hoping that he'd ask to rub it better, or something. Not that I'd want that. Of course.

We sat on the sofa for a while in a comfortable silence, until I finally spoke up.

"What were you planning to ask me?" I cut in.

He didn't answer straight away, but when he did I noticed a small waver in his voice, and he didn't make eye contact with me, like usual.

"Um, well, you probably won't want to now, but," he began, then faded to a stop.

"What?" I prompted, getting a little nervous and excited.

"I was thinking, maybe, would you want to go out with me sometime? Not with the rest of the lads. Just us."

Finally! I hoped I wasn't dreaming as I tried to accept as smoothly as possible. The last thing I wanted was to sound like I'd been desperately grasping at the chance.

He grinned, a light blush dusting his cheeks. It was a side of him that I didn't see too often – the sweet, shy side – but I'd hoped to see it more.

I knew I would be seeing many more sides to him as he chatted away about some great local places and pubs that he knew. We'd go out in a few days, after the next show. He told me not to give anything away to the others; it was hard enough just living as friends in this confined space without being teased. Plus, I knew that if anything developed from this, we'd want to keep it to ourselves, to be our special thing for as long as possible before anyone else got to intrude or make comments about it. I was pretty sure I could finally move out of the friendzone.


End file.
